Deafaning Silence
by coramonty
Summary: I mean to warn you for times of a, if I use this delicately, sinister nature lie ahead. R and R!
1. Chapter 1

_Dear Jack,_

_It is strange that I am writing to you with morbid news for you must agree that the news I usually come with is such of a light hearted nature or a pleasant banter which I'm afraid, today, will have to be delayed. I do not wish to alarm you, nor do I want you to think this is a trap or some sort of ploy but I mean to warn you for times of a, if I use this delicately, sinister nature lie ahead._

_I launch into this immediately for you know, Jack, I am not one to hold back._

_A man called Jenkins (a common name so it is not wise to enquire people of this name) is looking for you. He is not a well known man in the larger scale of things, but he is known in Cuba where he made his name with a small business that bodes very well in poorer parts of the island (I will not venture into details). His first name is Silas and he has earned the nickname 'Silence' from many which is applicable and I will explain why later. _

_He wants the Pearl, and I will be blunt, he wants you dead. He has two motives: one is that he does want your ship and the other I will explain in detail._

_About five months ago you wrote me and mentioned in passing that in that particular week you had looted a merchant ship south of Mauritius (I cannot remember the name but I think it is essential that you do). You seemed under the impression that this was a Spanish merchant ship, flying under the British flag and you made a joke about the inappropriate nature of this and it seems that you were right: this ship was neither Spanish not British. Jack, this was Jenkins' ship. I know you are not of the killing kind, but on this occasion you mentioned it was necessary to use force. I do not hold this against you, but Silence does for you not only took cargo that was of great importance to him but among the dead was his cousin whose name I know not._

_I know, Jack, you will take this lightly but he has a following, is a reputed villain and is wanted for more offences than you (which are a fair number judging from your repertoire). I will say now, the reason he is called Silence is because the never speaks but his actions speak volumes. _

_Please Jack, be wary for I do not want to stumble across my ship with you not at the helm. If someone has to guard the Pearl, better you than a bastard like Jenkins. I am sorry this is brief but I do not like to dwell on the worse things in life._

_Cora_

Jack put down the parchment and stared out of the porthole that lay in line with his eyes. A number of things puzzled him. Firstly, the situation did not seem dire, nothing out of the ordinary, so why should she, someone who wouldn't care if Jack was left cold, be bothered by this man, Silas Jenkins? Secondly, the letter was too well written for her and thirdly curiosity burned inside him with the unanswered questions: what was on that ship? What was Silas' trade? And why the anger over the death of a cousin?

Jack pondered over the letter, its sender and the topic for half of an hour more. He drank what at the present moment was more comforting than the authors touch, a glass of rum. Nice penmanship, Jack thought, but very bad news.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was not a simple man and because of this he did not take the news lightly. Though he did use another trait of a man who has something in his head, he realized there was nothing to be done at the present moment and he put all thoughts of mute men out of his head. Jack Sparrow, or Captain as he corrected anyone who demoted him in conversation, was a pirate and even though strange in appearance, slightly drunk even when no substances had been consumed and donned with the attitude that a three year old would hold: (it's mine for the taking), he was a jolly good pirate.

He was a jolly good pirate in trouble.

He currently stood half naked, pondering how to get out of this sticky situation.

"Jack, I've heard you once before and not again. I will not be your wench!" Shrieked the angry woman who was in the process of throwing half her possessions into a dusty bag and half onto the jolly good pirate.

"Look luv, I know you're slightly tense right now but surely after last night you have to be slightly more at ease with the situation?" He waved his arms to emphasize his points, or, to try and defend himself from the clothes that were being directed towards him with some force.

"I don't know what passes through that head of yours _Captain _Jack Sparrow," she spat with some contempt, "but reminding me of the way you used me is not a way to charm a furious woman!"

"Darlin', there's no need to be furious, I just can't stay right now. But, this mood does add a certain healthy colour to your somewhat pale complexion," Jack nodded earnestly with a mock upper-class accent.

This did not achieve the desired effect and a shoe now landed on Jack's head at a speed knocking him to the floor. The woman, picking up her bag, glowered down at Jack.

"Don't bother lying to me Jack; I know there's someone else," Jack heard her storm towards the inn room door, "and it's not that ruddy ship!" And with that she slammed the door which did not aid Jack's headache.

Well, who said that he couldn't charm furious women?

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"So what to do then Captain? If we sail out of the Spanish Main they would know for the Pearl's course is tracked by some and you've probably tried it but I couldn't hide this bloomin' great ship," Gibbs said, scurrying alongside the Jack.

"Simple, we set sail and take a gander to Tortuga. There, I asks and queries and hopes that this Jenkins will be known somewhere, savvy?"

They walked into the Captain's cabin and Jack settled himself on a chair that accompanied the table.

"I wonder Jack, how you get yourself into situations of this nature." Said Jack's faithful first mate, sitting down with a bottle of rum and staring into Jack's eyes.

"I'm a pirate Gibbs, relate to me on that at least," he said placing his feet on the table, "and at the present moment I'm more worried about the Pearl being stolen than being killed by some tradesman."

"Aye, but what's to worry? This is the fastest boat in the seas and we have all the guns in the seas so why worry about this man?" He said placing the bottle down.

"I'm not worried, I'm preparing," Jack snatched the bottle and took a swig.

"Over preparing perhaps?" Gibbs smiled and the Captain stood up and gazed to the horizon.

"Perhaps when I'm not looking he might come, or not listening."

"Should I know what your meaning is Jack?"

"It depends; can you pretend you know till we reach Tortuga?"

"Aye," sighed Gibbs. "You still haven't told me who informed you of this. Who's to say it isn't some sort of mutiny or trick?"

"It isn't Gibbs. Reliable sources and good penmanship hold me in good stead."

Gibbs' eyebrows rose slightly and then he said with some trepidation, "Not scared are you Cap'n?"

"Why, are you getting shivers in your old age?" Jack smiled glinting gold teeth, turning to his old friend.

"As scared as I am of the Declaration of Paris… so yes." Gibbs stood up and took the bottle once more.

"Don't worry Gibbs, I'll take care of you and if I don't, you can inform this Silence Jenkins of my whereabouts and watch him tear me to shreds on the deck," Jack paused, "with the crew present".

"Right Cap'n. On to Tortuga then," and Gibbs turned towards the door but stopped and said, his back facing Jack, "I hope you trust her Jack, she has stolen from you in the past."

"Stolen is such an ugly word Gibbs. I prefer, borrowed with every good intention of returning." And with that he snatched Gibbs' bottle once more and took a long drink, chuckling to himself.

Sorry the chapter is short.

Dictionary

Declaration of Paris: Abolished Privateering in 1856 All countries signed except the USA, Spain, Mexico and Venezuela.


	3. Chapter 3

Beautiful, merciless and sweet smelling. These were words that most definitely did not describe Tortuga. It was, essentially, a playground for criminals. Most places the Queen's Navy could have some sort of control over but they had long given up with this town judging from the drunks lolling on the street corners, or the voluptuous women that stood, displaying their wares in most public houses. Young boys looking for adventure came to Tortuga, senses heightened by the rank odours and the anarchy of the town where night seemed to stretch on for moons. This died away eventually for the lush appearance of the flowing rum and women on every street corner was only a façade. Tortuga was a dangerous place to be and instead of beauty, mercy and happiness, murder, rape and theft were the rulers of this town and you wouldn't find any crowns sitting on thrones here, more like crowns in the hands of pirates.

"This wasn't where I wanted to be", thought Josephine as she stared out at the grubby existence that graced St. Johns Street. Realising how long she had stood there, she turned sharply away from the window whose corners left transparency long ago and sighed, returning to her usual haunt of sitting behind the counter waiting for something, that most definitely wasn't the average citizen in Tortuga.

She sat, books surrounding her, studying the latest addition to her collection: 'Mr. Claringe's: A Way for Women'. "Pure tripe really", she thought, mentally tossing the book out of the window. The usual degradation of women and self indulgence of man. She took off her glasses and took to gazing back out of the window. What greeted her was a tired face but shrewd blue eyes. Her dark brown hair that weaved down her shoulder, tied with a grubby piece of material annoyed her and some days she was tempted to cut it off with a knife but she never had the courage to do so.

She sat up straight and turned on her profile, trying to find her best angle but it was hard when you were resigned to believe that you had no best angle. She didn't necessarily want to look like the stunning but prim women that she read about but it would do to look as she did if you were on an adventure, then it wouldn't matter about looks but nerve she needed, and nerve she lacked. "Oh well, there was more in life than beauty", she told herself. There were books and well…

"It wasn't fair", she thought. She'd seen empty headed girls married to intellectuals in her childhood. Silly, pretty things who never had anything worthwhile to say and laughed at anything so much to think they would laugh in their beds. "I'm just as good as them, if not better!" And she smiled but cast her eyes down to 'Mr. Claringe's: A Way for Women' and caught the words; _"the first rule is: don't be selfish! A selfish girl is not a selfish pearl!" _Upon reading that she slammed the book shut and put it behind her. "Bad writing", she told herself.

"Jo!" Said a tall, but skinny young boy, stumbling through the door with a number of packages, making the bell on the door ring in dulcet tones. He was not bespectacled unlike Jo, but he had the same small lashings of freckles and the same wide smile, which today, looked tired.

"Brother!" Jo said once she had clarified all of the above. "Let me help you. I wasn't expecting you bad till after six I must admit…"

"Yes, works been quite barren today. It's hard when…"

"I know." There was a short pause as they looked into each others eyes for safety and for comfort in the town they lived in, in which safety and comfort somewhat lacked. "Let me get you some soup, you look half dead."

"It's alright Jo, I don't need anything. But I know I can always rely on you for self improving comments," he laughed.

"Well, you know me," she said bustling round in a small room next to library. "And of course I'll feed you. What is family for? I didn't sell much today either. But I always said: little use would come from books to pirates, buccaneers and thieves."

"And I always replied they could use them for foot stools Jo."

"Yes but Peter, you forget, they are already are being utilized in that way by the salesperson."

"Ah." Jo came through with a bowl of hot soup and a plate of bread. "Thanks."

"I know it's not much but… I better go and wash my hands and face."

"No Jo, wait." Peter turned round and ushered her to come and sit down. "There's something that best be out with."

"That best be out with? That's the locals talking Peter," Jo laughed and picked at a piece of bread. "Well, out with it then!"

He looked down and for a moment, Jo thought he would say nothing and then suddenly he looked up with a hard expression in his eyes. "Life is hard here Jo. It's hard to find work when you're not one of… one of them. It's not as easy as selling books in a shop. I'm out there with them, pushing past me, spitting on me, saying things I don't understand. There are no respectable trades people here Jo! They all have stories of piracy and as soon as one other man who has the same goods as me charms a customer with a story like that I don't stand a chance of selling anything. Who would buy from a posh voiced, whelp like me?"

"Having a good upbringing should surely make you more of a trustworthy tradesman?" Jo put forward.

Peter looked down and sighed. "Poor currency in this town Jo. The only currency is piracy." He looked up, and Jo stomach seemed to jolt downwards.

"Peter…"

"I am going away for a while."

Jo tried to salvage the situation. "Where? We have no relatives. Well, all except for Aunt 'stench' Sarah." She laughed, but it was hollow and she knew the blow would come.

"I'm going on a pirate ship."

"I knew this day would come." Jo swept up and faced Peter with a face of thunder. "We don't have to succumb to that! People don't always follow the crowd, we didn't! You can't do that Peter! It's against God's will! It's wrong! And immoral! And worst of all, I fear I won't see you again." A tear escaped out of Jo's eye and landed in the long forgotten soup.

"Not all men seek rest and peace; some are born with the spirit of the storm in their blood, restless harbingers of violence and bloodshed, knowing no other path."

"Who told you that? Those aren't you're words!" Jo grabbed Peter's arm but he stood up and turned away.

"I've found a crew. They need someone who can read and it was lucky, they've just lost a crew member who I can replace."

"That could be you next time." A sob escaped Jo's mouth.

"I need freedom. I'll be back with money and more. A man needs more." Peter started towards the door. "I've already moved all I need. I'll be staying in an inn for a few nights, and then we'll be leaving." He opened the door and the clanging of the bell now sounded macabre as the darkening sky crept over the town.

"I need _you_ to live." Jo said slowly, pleading into Peter's eyes.

"And I need to live." Peter escaped out the door and there was a deafening silence broken by the door slamming and a woman crying.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack leant against a stone wall in the shadows. He breathed outwards slowly. It was getting late and the night mistress was beginning to light the night sky. The bangs of gun shots cracked occasionally like fireworks and as he looked up he saw each star and each star was like a single bullet hole in this town. The smell of urine greeted his nostrils and no doubt his shoes and he thought of all the shady deals and gambling that would be occurring inside the wall he was leaning on.

How he loved this town.

He sighed again and closed his eyes. Cora was right, no one had heard of this man and those who had mot definitely weren't willing to part with that information. Force may have been necessary in some cases but ever since he attacked Silas Jenkins' ship he found it hard to bring himself to slaughtering anyone lest he enrage someone, the last thing he needed now was more vendettas against him.

"_So the news in the letter did shake you up a bit jack?" _A voice in his head said.

He paused and decided to admit to himself the reality. _"Anything she writes stirs me." _Jack said mentally. He closed his eyes and thought of the last time they met. The last voyage they had sailed together. He closed his eyes and remembered warmth, her smile, her... But it had to stop. He was Captain Jack Sparrow! He'd said it so many times that it was becoming a ritual so he could do it again now. It _was_ an annoyance when he was with other woman, with his crew, with anyone…

"_I will tear up any letter I get from her ever again."_

"_Will you really?" _The voice said, taunting Jack with the truth.

"_Yes." _Jack said with conviction. Well, some conviction. "And I also vow to stop talking to myself." He said out loud and a passer by glanced at him but didn't look surprised. Madness was not a rarity in this town.

It killed him that it bothered him so much but he knew not having her killed him even more. But it had to end and he knew it more than anyone who had ever told him that. If they ever met again he would not acknowledge her, or kill her, an option he knew in his current state was a bleak one. "Well, she's tried to knock you down a couple of times Jacky boy," he thought. But all was fair in love and war and when the latter was removed, then the other option was a necessity. He cursed this new found vulnerability and himself for loitering.

He pushed himself off the wall and strolled casually up St. Johns Street. In his current state, he knew it was best to retain his usual drunken, charming self; the self that people knew in this town and an easily frightened Jack was a dead Jack. He walked passed the usual shops with broken windows, pubs and taverns and brothels and was amazed to see a book shop whose windows had not been touched or the appearance been scored. It would have been a young scallywags dream to make that shop look like any other in this town but it was inconspicuously placed round a corner and hidden from view. Jack was always one to have a sharp eye and the average dwellers in Tortugas eyes were usually starry at this time of night so he did not worry for the safety of the shop.

'Farnborough's' it was called and Jack made a mental note to return there whilst he stayed here. Book shops were few and far between and Jack never liked to admit it but he liked some light reading on the ship but his book collections were limited and usually used for foot stools if he was honest.

A woman suddenly left the shop with a meagre shawl gathered round her simple, faded blue dress that once would have been quite pleasant to the eye but now looked like it had been worn one too many times. She looked modest and out of place as her brown boots hit the cobbled pavement. She suddenly stopped and looked up and down the street. Her face was filled with worry and it was obvious she had been crying and looked like she was now if Jack's eyes didn't deceive him. She looked very odd, as if once she would have been very respectable but now, with dirt on her face, untamed hair and her overall unkempt appearance she looked like a doll that had been scuffed up. No, she didn't look like a doll, a rag doll perhaps but comments like that, Jack had learnt, did not bode well with women. She decided to walk up the street and gently pushed passed Jack. As she walked away Jack thought, "who does her face remind me of?" He mused on this but decided to leave it. A familiar face, crying women, a man who talked to himself: all everyday things in Tortuga.

He continued down the street and decided to return to his tavern and get some shut eye. He had only been here three days and no avail.

"Well, if this man wants to kill me, he can! But he aint' getting the Pearl!" Jack suddenly declared aloud and three drinkers on a corner turned to look at him.

He really should stop doing that.

* * *

Josephine took another break against a wall and breathed out slowly. She had decided to make quick breaks of running from wall to wall and then hiding behind a dark corner. This was only her third break so far and she was petrified. It was getting later and she could hear and see gun shots. The putrid smell of urine was everywhere and she picked up her skirt further so as not to get the disgusting liquids on the floor near her person. She shook as she thought of the murders and rapes that could be taking place inside the very building she rested against.

How she hated this town.

She had decided to leave the bookshop briefly after Peter had left. She had quickly grabbed her shawl and some coins, the last remaining coins in her collection. She usually was the type of person to give up after a fight and sulk, but this, this was something she could not sit and stew about. She had to find her brother. He didn't seem to realise that without him, she would have to find food for herself and financially depend on just the bookshop. He must be suffering from sickness! Or this is the work of someone else. The latter was the option that Josephine thought to be most accurate. She would search every tavern in this town if she had to and had to she did.

What scared her most was life without Peter. They didn't get on particularly well; in fact, she had despised him for some years before they came out the Caribbean. She always called him a 'mollie' as he never had the gall to stand up to their father, and he always used to call her a 'book worm' or 'old maid' as they both knew that Josephine would never get married. But as soon as they fled for the Caribbean their relationship became more of a dependency and it grew into sibling love, eventually. Josephine thought of the hunger on the ship and Peter's willingness to sacrifice himself over her on some occasions. This softened her and as soon as they arrived here they thought that life would get better, but it was every next day that would get better. Never mind! We will make more tomorrow. Oh well! Perhaps it will be better tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. It seemed funny to Josephine that that day never came.

Her father… The secret… Why had they done it? Her father…

"BABIES!"

Josephine screamed and fell backwards on the ground. What had made that noise?

"BABIES!"

Suddenly, out of the shadows, a woman with wild, knotted hair, a face that was so dark with dirt that you could barely see her eyes and a toothless grin started cackling madly at Josephine.

"Old Katie could use that hair, my dear. Katie could, Katie could…" She muttered as she walking by, picking up a strand of her hair and letting it drop.

Josephine watched her walk away and held her breath as the stench hit her nostrils. "Right. That's it. The first tavern I see".

So she picked herself up ("so much for clean attire" she thought), took a deep breath and hurried out onto the street. It was lit well and there was screaming, drunkards everywhere and laughter. Most of all the laughter. Bitter, money grabbing laughter. She hurried on and searched every entrance for taverns. None on this street it seemed, so she hid behind a corner again and let out a shaky breath. Survived her first attack, she thought.

A cold blade hit he throat and she gasped.

"Tha's right. Stay nice and quiet and no-ones going to get angry," the male raspy voice dug the blade a bit deeper into her skin, "or 'urt."

He pulled her to her right and pulled out a pistol which he placed to her head. He removed the knife.

"Now. We're just going to go in the door about five foot down there luv' al'right?"

She nodded slowly, speechless and he pushed her so they walked down the alley, and took a right into a door.

The room was dimly lit with only a few chairs in it. She was pushed onto one.

"Stay 'ere. An' don' think about running away. There are others." The man turned round and walked into another room and closed the door.

Josephine was amazed. She had never seen a room like this before. It was dark and very scarcely furnished with pictures on each wall of scenes of towns. Amazement was a secondary emotion and her first was terror and all she thought to do was cry and a tear ran down her cheek but she promptly wiped it away as the man came back in with a piece of paper. He placed himself at the table on a chair. He was a big man, slicked back hair and dark eyes.

"Wha's yer name?"

"Umm… ummm…" She really was speechless.

"Do you need my friend the knife again?"

She swallowed, "no, it's Josephine. Josephine Farnborough."

He wrote that down quickly and then stood up facing her.

"We'll shortly be puttin' you in a room. Don' think of tryin' to get out. It ain't gonna happen."

"Why… why am I here?"

"You really wanna know now?" He said slowly.

"Yes." She piped out.

"I have a boss. He's sells women's mother of saints. You, my dear, would be perfect for this lil'… industry shall we say?"

"What?" Josephine stood up traumatized.

"You 'eard me. If I was the boss I'd let the work force have a piece of the merchandise before 'and but capin's orders." He turned to leave.

"I want to talk to your boss!"

The man burst out into raucous laughter. "There's no talkin' to him luv'!" He stopped talking and leaned in close to Josephine. "He's a mute." And he suddenly kissed her. Josephine was taken aback so her eyes instantly closed but when she opened them she saw his pistol on the belt. She reached forward slowly and pulled it out of his belt.

"Ah!" She placed the gun against his head but didn't wish to tell him it was upside down.

"Darlin', drop it."

"No! In fact, I don't think I will!" She stood up and tried to calm her shaking hand. "You, get back against the wall!"

"I don' think you know how to use a gun and my men are just next door so I can shout…"

"Just try." She cocked the pistol. _"It worked!"_ She thought.

"Al'righ', easy," he sounded wary so he turned round.

"Now," it came out as a whisper so she spoke louder, "now! I'm going to leave now. So, so you just stay there. Well, goodbye!" And with that she ran out the door still holding the gun. She ran through streets and streets stumbling over barrels and bodies until she stopped, panting in a side street. She dropped the gun and jumped away from it.

"Disgusting thing!" She thought.

She stood there at a complete loss of what to do. She contemplated going back to the bookshop but she had no idea where she was. If only… Like a light in a dark room she suddenly saw _The Batty Hag _right next to her. Well, that's better than nothing. So she stepped into pub with a grimace on her face.

* * *

"So we set sail tomorrow men?"

"Aye!" The chorus of agreement said and Jack smiled. No luck in Tortuga, but luck can be found in odd places he thought and here it obviously wasn't hiding. He saw his newest crew member leaving the room and decided to grab his shoulder for a word.

"You alright then?"

"Yes. Thank you for this, I don't know what I would have done."

"S'alright. Just, don't do anything stupid?"

"I'll try not to." He left the room abruptly. "Still scared of me," thought Jack. But in time… in time young Peter would become a fine pirate.


End file.
